Tuesday, 12 July 2016

Did I Miss Much?

So here I am, back at the keyboard, nervous as hell. Despite an absence of (ahem ahem) months the study
doesn’t look too bad, as long as you’re a fan of the “Miss Havisham” style of
interior decoration, and the cobwebs do help to keep the dust in place.A couple of squirts of Oust, and the removal
with tongs of a decaying cheese sandwich morsel, and I’m ready to hit the
blogging trail once again.

Who’d have imagined, when I wrote my last piece, that even the
Chilcot Report would be published before I cranked out the next one?Normally I’d defend such a hiatus by
explaining how I filled it with good deeds and humanitarian work, but Tony
Blair’s boak-inducing press conference has cornered the market in whey-faced
narcissism.Best simply to admit the
truth: sometimes a guy just needs a break in order to clear the gunk out of his
head and stop shouting “Arsehole!” at the TV every time Glenn Campbell lumbers into
view.

I probably just need a strong coffee, but at this early
stage in my creative rehab the challenge of topical commentary seems more
daunting than ever.Previously, I could
write a blog post over a couple of days and pimp it for a week on Twitter
before it started to curl at the edges and smell of pee.Now, even if I chunter it out as if
commentating on the Grand National, within half an hour all the main characters
will have resigned, been knifed in the back, decided to spend more time with
their drinks cabinet or been knee-capped by the Murdoch press, and nobody will
remember who the hell they were.

Nothing’s been the same since, with an embarrassing squelchy
sound out of one of the ropier Carry On films, I had my EU citizenship ripped
away against my will.Ever since then,
we’ve all been trapped aboard a speeding handcart, with half the occupants jubilantly
belting out Highway To Hell at the
tops of their voices, the rest of us bricking it and nobody at the damn
controls.Oh wait, suddenly our imperial
masters have seen fit to advise us that there is a driver, but it’s Theresa May, who last time I looked was the
answer to the question, “Which Prime Minister will dynamite our human rights
and deport that nice Polish couple who run the village shop?”

As if a rigged economic system and cringingly compliant
media weren’t enough for the Tories, they currently have another ace up their
expensively-tailored sleeves. No matter
how catastrophically they bugger things up, you can bet your commemorative “Controls
On Immigration” mug that the Labour Party will discover an ingenious way of out-buggering
them.

Boris’s craven whimperings, Mikey Gove’s self-impaling
assassination attempt, Andrea What’s-‘er-Name’s uterus fixation and the general
sense of disengaged drift represented a clear open goal for Her Majesty’s Opposition.
In reaction, quelle surprise, they
burst the ball with one of the corner flags, tried to beat the team captain to
a pulp with the other three and bared their arses in front of their supporters
before heading off to set fire to the dressing room. As English Labour members’ jaws clanked to the
floor, it was an act of superhuman self-control for Scots to resist saying, “We
told you so.”

The spearhead of the Parliamentary Labour Party’s mass V-sign
to party members, and useful idiot of expectantly lurking darker forces, has
been Angela Eagle. As Springwatch
aficionados will know, an eagle is clear-sighted, decisive and deadly, but
perhaps Angela’s twin sister Maria was the happy recipient of those genes. By contrast, Angela’s campaign, at least up
till yesterday, seemed to be channelling a vacillating Merseyside version of
Elmer Fudd: “I’m going to get that Jeremy if he doesn’t resign, so I am, as
soon as I’ve finished that big shop at Asda, and creosoted that garden fence,
and those bathroom tiles aren’t going to grout themselves.”When she finally drew herself up to her full
three feet eight inches and threw down the gauntlet with a resounding pffffft,
it was too late:BBC2 had already faded
her out in favour of in-house adverts, and Peston, Crick and wide-mouthed frog
Kuenssberg had legged it across town to watch Andrea Thingummyjig stand down for
“the good of the nation”.

All this chaos has, of course, put the spotlight firmly back
on the question of Scottish independence. Nicola’s been doing some impressive shuttle diplomacy,
which the agonised squeaks of the Unionist gutter press confirm has been going
down a storm with her European audience. Alyn Smith has also lit a fire amongst his
fellow MEPs, a clear sign that Scotland’s stance is a zillion miles from Farage’s
smirky adolescent triumphalism.But,
even from those in Brussels who wish Scotland nothing but love, kisses and
eternal chocolate treats (not to mention Rajoy, who wouldn’t piss on us if we
were on fire) the message is that a halfway-house arrangement won’t work, and
that if we’re to be welcomed into the EU fold we need to make a distinct break
from the UK.

Assuming Theresa’s jolly-hockeysticks “let’s make Brexit
work” approach entails the UK activating Article 50 before the last night of
the Proms, we have a really short horizon - and a gargantuan challenge - to
convince the doubters.It’s lovely to hear
all the anecdotal evidence of No voters gravitating to Yes, but sorry, folks, I
don’t buy it for a nanosecond.Wizard as
it is to contemplate J K Rowling crossing the divide, with 666 libel lawyers
doing a screechy handbrake turn and concentrating their venom on Brian Spanner,
it all sounds like the Unionist commentariat softening us up for a kick in the
goolies.

There are soft No votes to be won, possibly enough to take
us over the line, but it would be daft to be complacent and, anyway, we need to
go much further than that.I want to see
the case for self-governance established to the satisfaction of the most
sceptical voter.Even if my 90-year-old
dad, who thinks Nicola’s a wee besom, doesn’t accompany me to George Square for
the next rally, I’d like him at least to be heating a pizza and pouring a
sherry for me when I get back.Can we
achieve that? Hell, yes – if we do the background work and get it right!

Interesting times, as I’m sure Confucius would agree, even
if he wasn’t actually the source of the phrase. And a good time to be back on the
blogging scene.

Are you doing an establishment trick of putting out a piece on a day when other news hits the headlines?

Nice try, but Labour and Tories are more exciting than even I realised...NOT. And the MSM are avoiding the 'Scottish' problem too by not commenting on how busy Nicola is at meeting anyone who can help us in our quest to remain!

About Me

I'm a writer who returned to Scotland in 2013 after 30+ years in the Home Counties. If you enjoy reading my ramblings, please return often and recommend me to your friends on Twitter, Facebook and Planet Earth. That way someone may one day give me money to do this sort of thing, which would be nice.
william_duguid@hotmail.com